Hell Hath No Fury
by RainyJ.T
Summary: When Neal is caught up in one of the most frightful Halloween myths, he must find a way to survive - alone.
1. Chapter 1

**I hope you enjoy my contribution to Halloween! I'm not going to say much, so just read on. I hope to have this finished by Halloween, so it will probably be short.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own White Collar! :(**

Neal Caffrey lay on the cold patio outside of his room staring into the night sky. Below him New York was busy, the sounds of the city blending together into something akin to white noise. It was one of those rare nights where you could see the stars through the smog, scattered across the sky like diamonds, beautiful and sparkling. There was no wind, only a slight breeze from time to time.

It was the perfect night, to say the least, and Neal was content to just lay there listening. He closed his eyes and folded his arms across his chest, laying flat against the tiled ground. It took him a few moments to realize that the city had grown quiet. The silence was heavy, as if a hundred pound blanket had been dropped from the sky, covering the entirety of New York.

Neal struggled to get to his feet, like a weight had been placed over his whole body to keep him on the floor. When he was finally standing, he staggered to the edge of the patio. His entire body was swaying as he fought to stay upright. He stared at the city below, seeing emptiness where cars had been moments ago, blackness where people had been walking, and darkness where the city lights usually illuminated. The entire city was still, dead.

Straining his ears, he searched for even the slightest of sounds to ensure him that he was, in fact, still in the land of the living. It was the only explanation. The city would never fall to silence, for it just wasn't possible with the number of people that occupied it. If Neal were dead, that would definitely explain the stillness. Suddenly a sound hit him, nearly causing him to fall from the patio in shock. He staggered backwards before he could lose his balance and fall to the mercy of the concrete below. Even if he were dead, that would not be a pleasant occurrence.

Neal listened as the sound grew louder, a rhythmic _clip clop_ on the street below. When it stopped, he held his breath and poked his head out over the edge once more. His gasp was the loudest thing in the entire city as he came face to face with what he assumed to be Death.

A smoky figure was staring at him from where it sat atop a monstrous horse, its coat black as night. The figures eyes were crimson, shadowed by a dark, shredded cloak. They seemed to stare straight through him and into his soul. The horse that he rode was pawing at the ground, steam pouring from its flared nostrils and piling in clouds around its hooves. Suddenly the horse reared and the figure held a hand up in the air, sleeve falling to reveal claw like fingers pointing directly at Neal. He found that he couldn't move, those blood red eyes were keeping him grounded, burning into his mind. As he stared into the figures eyes he felt something shredding inside of him, the Devil's claws tearing at his heart. He cried out in pain, the only sound in the too-still city, body writhing on the patio of his apartment. His screams rang in his ears and he couldn't breathe.

As he became deaf to his own howling he heard the figure's dark, sinister laughter that echoed in the back of his mind. Neal watched, panting for breath between his strangled moans, as the figure lowered its hand and snapped the reins, sending the pitch black horse galloping into the darkness. His eyelids felt heavy as he fought to stay awake. He needed to stay conscious despite the burning throughout his entire body. If he succumbed to sleep, he may never wake up again, he may truly be lost to the depths of Hell.

Neal's eyes slipped closed, and all that he saw was that creature perched atop his mount, the image burned into his brain.

_Sleep…_

**Please let me know what you thought! I've only seen one or two stories even partially related to Halloween, so I wanted to put up my own! I'm not the best at writing scary scenes or anything of the sort, so please let me know how I can improve! Tell me what you liked, what you didn't like, anything!**

**Thank you for reading.**


	2. Chapter 2

**I know that I told some of you that I would explain more in this chapter, but I decided that this was a better alternative. All will be explained in due time, I assure you! And by the way, when I checked my email yesterday I nearly squealed. Five reviews? In _one _day! That is unheard of for me! I want to thank you guys again, because you made me so happy! You guys were definitely the inspiration for me to write the second chapter so soon. Also, I wanted to thank those anonymous reviewers, because I couldn't thank you personally. **

**Disclaimer: No, I still do not own White Collar.**

Neal awoke to cold droplets of water splashing on his face. The city was still silent, and though the rain fell, no sound came from it. He felt like he was in a dream, the silence heavy and overwhelming. Was he still asleep, or was he awake? He wasn't sure, but judging by the aching in his chest he decided on the latter.

Shivering, Neal forced himself to his feet. He was unsteady and his entire body was sore, but he ignored the pain as he trudged into his room. He glanced at the clock beside his bed, but the neon numbers were nowhere to be found. Flipping the light switch by the door he discovered that there was no power. The silence was starting to wear on him already, and all he wanted was to turn on the radio, or _something. _The only sound in the entire city was that of his own rhythmic breathing and the beating of his heart pounding in his ears.

He took a quick shower, singing as loud as he could to hide the silence. The water poured onto his body, splashing on the shower floor. Silence. Stepping out of the confining space, he changed his clothes and then stood in front of the bathroom mirror. He stared at his cold reflection. Something was off, but nothing was different. His ice blue eyes were dull, dark bags underneath them. His brows were furrowed as he lifted his hand and tapped on the glass. Nothing. Not a sound came from anything other than him. _Is this what death feels like?_

Sighing, Neal stepped out of the bathroom and wandered his apartment. He paced for what seemed like hours before finally coming up with a game plan. Something was wrong in New York, and he had to find out what it was. He grabbed his jacket and headed for the Burke's residence. Peter would know what to do.

As Neal walked along the sidewalk, he searched for signs of life. There was not a person in sight, not even an abandoned car. Trash littered the streets, and he picked up a newspaper from the day before that fluttered in front of his feet from the harsh wind. It was soggy from the rain that still fell, but the words were legible enough. He flipped through the pages, but he found nothing out of the ordinary.

"What is going on?" Neal muttered. The city held no answer. He sighed and continued on his way.

When he finally got to the Burke's house, he knocked on the door. He soon realized that it was useless, Peter wouldn't hear it anyway. Neal hoped that the agent would understand as he picked the lock with ease. He wandered inside, and was greeted with silence. Satchmo, their loving dog, was nowhere to be seen, and Neal was slightly devastated by the absence of the bubbly pet. He wandered through the house, searching for either Peter or Elizabeth, anyone who could just explain to him what was going on.

Neal had checked every room before he finally came to their bedroom. He opened the door slowly, poking his head inside. His eyes fell on the sleeping forms of the Burkes, and he smiled. Finally he had found someone! He padded inside, poking Peter's shoulder. No response came. He frowned and poked the man again, but nothing happened. "Wake up!" He said, shaking Peter's body gently. Silence.

Neal sighed and walked to the other side of the bed, where Elizabeth lay. He poked her, but, just like Peter, there was no response. Neal started to panic and he rushed back to the agent's side, shaking him roughly. "Wake up!" He yelled. The sound echoed loudly against the walls. "Peter, come on, just wake up!"

Neal felt his heart beat faster, his breaths coming in worried gasps. "Please, wake up!" His voice cracked, but there was no response. He backed away from the too-still bodies until his back was against the door. He felt so alone, so lost. Who else could tell him what was happening? Why wouldn't he wake up? His voice was small and quiet as he whispered, "Peter?"

Nothing. Neal wanted to scream, but his lungs were burning and he realized that he was hyperventilating. He slid down the wall until he was sitting on the floor with his knees pressed against his chest. Hiding his face in his knees, he forced himself to breathe slower, to calm down. He was alone.

_What the _hell _is going on!_

Suddenly the dark laughter of the figure from the night before rang in his ears. Neal squeezed his eyes shut and willed it to go away. It was just in his head, he knew, but it made his chest burn even more. He felt the same clawing sensation in his entire body as the night before, and he bit back the scream that threatened to escape. It was useless, he soon discovered, as the pain grew and he cried out in pain. It was pointless. He was going to die, if he wasn't already. He was going to die alone. It was his fate all along.

**I hope you guys liked this chapter as much as you did the last! Thank you again for those fabulous reviews, and I hope to see more for this chapter. Tell me what you liked, what you didn't like, what I could improve on, anything! I love to hear from you guys!**

**Thank you so much for reading! :)**


	3. Chapter 3

**For the record, I don't like this chapter as much as the others. It was a lot harder to write than I envisioned! Even so I hope you guys like this chapter. I'm sorry it's a little shorter than the other two, as well.**

**Also, thank you again to my anonymous reviewers! I would love to thank you personally, but you don't have an account, so I can't! D: And to those of you with accounts, if I didn't thank you for your review I'm sorry! I tried to reply to them all.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own White Collar.**

Neal's head ached. His body was still sore and his joints creaked with every move he made. The figure's laughter from that night had disappeared, but the image of its fierce mount was still burned into his mind. He was haunted by those crimson orbs every time he allowed his eyes to close.

Neal let out a shaky breath as he stood. He didn't want to leave Peter and Elizabeth there alone, but he needed to figure out what was going on. There had to be some way to save them if they weren't already too far gone, to stop whatever was plaguing New York. With one last glance at their still bodies, he exited the room.

Pausing outside of their bedroom door, Neal pondered his options. If he came across that figure again, he had no defense. Sure he was a fast runner, but he could never outrun that monstrous horse. He ran a shaking hand through his hair before returning to their room. Rummaging through the bedside drawer, he found Peter's gun. "Don't be mad," he muttered. His voice was loud amongst the silence. Ensuring that the gun was loaded, he tucked it under his shirt where it was easily accessible.

Would a gun work against Death? Probably not, but it was better than nothing, he reasoned.

Closing the door behind him Neal left the room. He set to pacing in the Burke's entryway, wracking his brain for a plan. He needed to find out more about this creature, and he figured that the library might have something that could help him. Thinking quickly, Neal grabbed a flashlight off of the table by the front door. It was almost nightfall already. He locked the door to Peter's home and ran to the library, shielding his face from the onslaught of rain.

When Neal finally came to the old library, he discovered that the door was locked. He picked the lock easily, but fighting down Peter's voice in his conscience _(You just can't stop, can you, Caffrey?)_ was much more difficult. The library was tidy, save for a stack of children's books resting on a cart near the shelves. There was not a person in sight. Rushing towards the history section he searched the aisle for a book containing common myths, or something of the sort. He had no idea what to look for, but it sounded good. Grabbing a large book off of the shelf, he glanced over the cover.

The book was old and worn, the pages uneven and separating from the binding. It was titled _Hallows Eve: Death Personified. _Neal flipped through the yellow pages, varied sketches of a skeleton adorned in a black cloak holding a scythe stood out above the text. He continued turning the pages until he saw a drawing much like the figure that he had seen. The picture was smoky, almost, and the black and white lines seemed to stare up at him from the page. He caught the words _Grim Reaper _and _Angel of Death _before he closed the book with a start, his breaths shaky and uneven. That was what he had seen, that creature was haunting New York.

Neal took a deep breath, and just when he was about to reopen the book, he heard the steady _clip clop _of hooves against the concrete outside. He bit back a gasp and ducked behind a large desk. The sound was getting closer, echoing against the buildings outside. He could feel the air tightening around him so much that his breathing was labored. Squeezing his eyes shut his mind was screaming, praying that he wouldn't be seen. He couldn't go through that pain again, and he had no defense other than the gun tucked under his shirt. Neal was positive that it was a useless item, and he hated guns anyway.

The sound stopped and silence fell over the city again. Neal held his breath, head spinning, trying not to make a sound. He opened his eyes and peeked through a small slit in the desk where the backing connected to the desktop. The figure was staring into the library through the large glass window, crimson eyes searching every inch of the small building. Neal felt his chest tighten in panic as those red orbs fell on the desk that he hid behind. He didn't move a muscle, only watched as the Angel of Death stared for a full minute, maybe more. It finally averted its eyes and moved on, continuing its search.

Neal abandoned the book without hesitation. He had felt the sketch staring at him, and he was unsure if it had led the cloaked figure to him or not. Playing it safe he pushed the book as far away from him as possible. He planned to stay hidden behind the desk until morning came—he was safer in daylight.

**Let me know what you guys thought! I'm sorry it's not as good as the other two chapters, but this one was irritating me. Even so, please drop off a review! I love hearing from you guys, you make my day when I check my email! And I am definitely mind blown by the NINE reviews I already have. Wow! That may not sound like much, but that is a TON for me! I am so glad that you guys like this story as much as you do!**

**Thank you so much for reading, I love you guys! :)**


	4. Chapter 4

**I am so very sorry that this chapter took so long! Please forgive me my lovely readers! Also, thank you to every one who reviewed, I love you guys :) And my lovely new muse taught me that planning a story didn't mean that I had to be stuck to the idea. That's why this took a little longer.**

**This chapter starts to explain what is going on with Neal, so enjoy!**

When the first rays of sunshine fell through the library window, Neal stood and stretched. His muscles were tight from being cramped under the small desk for the night, and he hadn't gotten much sleep. Every time his eyes slipped closed he was jolted awake by the memory of crimson eyes staring at him.

The adrenaline from Neal's near capture had given his thoughts clarity, and though he still had no idea as to what was going on, he had come to the conclusion that the book was the only tool he would get any time soon. He was worried, though, by what he had felt last time he had opened the book. He was convinced that the image had been staring at him through the page, alerting Death of where he was hiding. Neal had quickly thought of a plan to read what was written without being seen by that haunting image, but he had needed to wait until daylight because of the lack of power in the city.

Rummaging through the mess atop the librarians desk, Neal found a small pile of blank printer paper and took a few sheets. He moved towards the book that lay on the floor, picking it up carefully, so as not to disturb the contents. Turning just the corners of the pages until he found the story he was looking for, he quickly covered the image with the paper. He waited for a moment, making sure that the illustration wasn't peering into his soul through the paper.

Neal read the contents quickly, his heart racing and breaths catching in his throat. The words echoed in his head, screaming at him to stop reading, to quit while he was ahead. But he read on, eyes flashing across the page, frantic.

_Purgatory…_

_Dead…_

"Damn it!" He shouted, throwing the book against the far wall of the library. It crashed silently against the wall and fell to the floor, a few of the pages separating from the binding and fluttering out. Neal ran his hands through his hair and took a deep breath. He kept reminding himself that it was just a book, a work of fiction. But his mind kept repeating everything that had happened, replaying it over and over in his head. The haunting silence, the emptiness, it was the only explanation. Something had been different when he looked in the mirror, could it be that he was no longer alive?

The thought had crossed Neal's mind at first, but he had never actually believed it. Now it was more real than he had ever thought, and it scared him to death, no pun intended. His entire body was shaking and all that he wanted was to go home, to something familiar. He shoved his hands in his pockets and trudged to his apartment at June's.

Trying to keep his mind elsewhere, Neal pretended that he wasn't so alone anymore. He imagined people bustling around him, going about their daily business. Their voices were loud, everyone trying to talk over the others, and there was a hot dog vendor shouting across the street. His stomach growled. Cars raced through the intersections and horns blared. Peter walked next to him, giving him the details of their newest case. Neal nodded and flashed his megawatt smile. It wasn't enough. The images were blurred around the edges and the sounds were muffled, he couldn't convince himself, even for a moment, that it was real. He stopped trying when he got to June's, entering the mansion and heading up to his room.

When Neal walked through the door of his apartment, he knew that something was different. There was no sound, but he could see steam seeping out under the bathroom door. His pulse quickened and he pulled out Peter's gun. He crept towards the door and paused just outside, pressing his ear to the wood just in case. His hand lingered by the doorknob. Just as he was about to barge in, the door opened to reveal a young woman with a towel wrapped around her body. Her long brown hair was dripping and her ice blue eyes were wide, staring down the barrel of Neal's gun.

The gun slipped from his grip and fell to the floor.

"Neal?"

**Thank you so much for reading, feel free to drop a review!**


	5. Chapter 5

**I just had to post a chapter on Halloween. I know that I said it would be finished by now, but as you can see, it's not. I hope you guys don't mind! **

**Enjoy!**

"Neal?" The woman tightened her grip on the towel that covered her body, a smile growing on her lips. She took a step forward, reaching a hand out to him.

"No, no it can't be-" Neal muttered under his breath, backing away from the dripping wet woman standing in front of him. She couldn't be there. He had lost her in the explosion. She was dead!

But then again, so was he.

"Neal, it's me, it's really me. We're together now, Neal. Look at me." She cornered him against a wall, pressing her hand into his chest, right above his heart.

Neal didn't understand. He could feel her touch and hear her voice, but she had died months ago. She had been burned to a crisp in the plane, and yet she stood in front of him looking more beautiful than ever. Her face was pink from the hot shower and she hadn't gotten the chance to apply her make up, but she was there. She was real, and through the silence he could hear her heart beating. She was really there.

"Kate.." Neal whispered as he wrapped his arms around her petite frame, taking in the scent of her hair and the softness of her skin. "Please. Please don't leave me again."

"I'm so sorry, Neal," she pulled away and cupped his cheeks in her fingertips. Pressing a soft kiss on his lips she whispered, "I made a deal, so that we can be together forever. Let me get dressed and I'll explain."

Neal's brows furrowed as he let her go, watching her saunter back into the bathroom and close the door. He ran his hands through his hair and fell back onto the couch. It was strange, seeing her again. He knew that it could have just been his imagination going crazy from lack of sleep and loneliness, but he waited for her to come back through that door. What had she meant when she said that she made a deal? Made a deal with whom?

Finally Kate came out from the bathroom, dressed in the same clothes that she had been wearing when the plane exploded. Neal still couldn't get over the fact that she had no burns on her skin—it was still just as milky white as he remembered. Kate plopped down on the couch next to him, leaning her head on his chest. "I missed you so much, Neal."

"Kate, tell me what's going on." He finally demanded. He wasn't sure if he should've though, when he felt Kate's entire body stiffen.

She sat up and said, "When the plane exploded, I was sure that I was dead. But I woke up on the ground in front of the plane, and it was still burning. I could smell the smoke but everything was completely silent. You and Peter had been there before the explosion, but you were gone. I was so scared, Neal, I was all alone. Then there was a black horse running towards me, and the rider… he was going to kill me. But I made a deal with him."

Neal's face went blank, she had made a deal with Death, he realized. This could not be good. "What was the deal, Kate?"

"If you died, too, we could be together forever. We would never have to deal with anybody ever again! You wouldn't have your two mile radius, we could go wherever we wanted, and steal whatever we wanted. He agreed, but he said that we would need to do something for him in return. After we do that, we can live again, and we would never have to be apart! Isn't it great?" She was smiling now, and she leaned forward to kiss him. "We'll get to be together, always."

"Wait, so if we do this, then we get to live again? It can't be that easy."

Kate pulled back, eyes downcast. "It's simple, Neal. Two lives for two lives." She wouldn't look at him, but Neal knew that she lying to him. He had taught her how to con.

"Kate, what do we have to do?"

"I can do it, you don't have to. I know they're your friends, so…" She ducked her head, trying to hide her face.

Neal grabbed her shoulders, shaking her gently until she looked him in the eye. His heart was racing as he realized what she was saying. If he wanted to live again, if he wanted to be with the woman he loved, he would have to kill two of the friends he had come to know. "Who do we have to kill, Kate?"

"You don't have to do it, I can! I can use your gun. You don't even have to be there. It'll be fine!"

"Tell me who has to die." His mind was screaming at him to just agree, he didn't have to be there, he wouldn't have to see his friends die. He could be with Kate forever, wasn't that what he wanted? He had spent so long searching for her, and now it came down to the death of two people. A single choice.

Two lives for two lives. Simple.

But they were his friends, and he had come to love each and every one of them, despite his leash and collar. They were a team, a family, and families don't kill each other.

"I…"

Neal wouldn't even need to know who it was, he could let Kate kill them and then they would live again. They could run far away from New York, maybe to France, or Mexico. They could go anywhere, be anyone. They could be together for the rest of their lives.

But he trusted his friends, and they trusted him, to some extent. And Peter, he would be so disappointed.

"Tell me, Kate!"

**The plot thickens! Haha, I hope you like this chapter, and don't be afraid to drop a review! I love you guys so much!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Well this is awkward. Um, hello! So it's four years since my last update of this story, sorry about that. But I have more! So, if anyone's interested, you can read it. Though I warn you, my writing skills have been unused for the last couple of years and this is far less well written than my previous works. I'm way out of practice. But I hope you like it anyway! I know how I'm going to end it, and I'm determined to at least finish it. So stick around, cos it'll only be probably one (maybe two) more chapter(s)!**

"Tell me, Kate!" Neal stood, his shout bouncing off the walls and piercing his own ears. The loudness of it against the stark silence made both of them jump.

Kate sighed and rose from the couch, tucking her dark hair behind one ear and frowning. She looked different somehow, but he couldn't place it. There was something off about her; similar to how he had felt when he first came into this Hellish New York, how his reflection seemed wrong but looked perfectly right. She looked dejected and small, beaten. "I thought you loved me, Neal."

Neal placed a hand on her forearm and tried to draw her closer, but she wrenched her arm away like he was fire and she was ice. He ran his fingers through his hair in desperation. "Just tell me, please. We can fix this. No one else has to die. Please, Kate."

"No," she spat.

"Kate-"

"You're not the person I thought you were; you've changed. But you'll see. Once all of this is over you'll remember how things were before. You'll remember how much you loved me, how much you would have sacrificed for me once." She turned on her heel and walked out the door, pausing to pick up the gun that Neal had dropped on the floor just moments ago. "I'll see you on the other side, Neal Caffrey."

The door slammed silently, leaving him alone and in shock in his room. That was not the Kate that he knew. Her once beautiful icy blue eyes had grown dark. But he did love her. This was a chance for them to be happy again, for them to start a new life together. They could run wherever they wanted to, together. Peter wouldn't catch him this time, Neal knew him too well. Things would be different.

Peter.

"Peter!" He ran. Heart pounding loudly in his chest he ran down the stairs and out the door of June's home, down the middle of the deserted city streets, and straight to the Burke's residence. There was no time. He was probably too late. He had no weapon, nothing to stop Kate from what he knew she was going to do.

Peter and Elizabeth. They were like family to him. In all of his years as a con man, they were the only ones that he had ever truly trusted. Not Kate, not Alex, not Mozzie, not even Jones and Diana. But Peter and his wife were different. They always had his back, even when he didn't have theirs. He couldn't lose them. He couldn't fail them this time.

He crashed into the front door of their home, locked. Neal's heart pounded. There was no time to pick it the lock. "Sorry, Peter," Neal muttered as he took a step back and kicked in the door, slightly disappointed by the silence of the wood splintering and slamming into the Burke's entryway floor.

He ran up the stairs and into the master bedroom, but suddenly he wasn't standing anymore. He was flat on his back, struggling for air.

No time.

He tried to stand, to get into the room and stop Kate, to stop his love from destroying what he had worked so hard for, to save his family. He couldn't move.

No time.

He felt his heart tighten and his eyes widened in fear. He could feel the sharp talons of death wrap around his heart and pierce into every last one of his veins. He opened his mouth to scream but it caught in his throat as he felt the shredding begin. Claws dug themselves into his heart and tore in every direction, pulling him apart from the inside, tearing him into pieces, and carving him like an animal.

No time.

Just as the scream welling up inside of him began to finally escape, he felt his insides sink even further than they already had. His eyes opened and he wished he could close them again. He could no longer hear his heart beat. He couldn't hear anything but overwhelming silence.

He linked eyes with Death.

Smoke poured from the hood and sleeves of it's cloak, crimson eyes floating in the darkness of it's face. It lifted it's bony, talon like hands and light began to pour into it's finger tips, swirling in it's open palms to form a ball of energy, pulsing like beating hearts. Neal tore his terrified gaze from the monster to follow the streams of light, to where he could barely see the outline of the Burke's bed, and the shadowed form of Elizabeth sleeping.

He was stealing their souls away.

No time.

Suddenly the light stretched out towards him, reaching into his torn heart and pulling it out piece by piece. He could feel himself disappearing, a black hole inside of him twisting him into knots and hurling him into the palms of Death.

Kate stepped out from behind the creature, gun in hand. "Oh, Neal. I wish it didn't have to be this way. I really am sorry. But you've made this too fun for him. He wants you to do it."

She crouched beside him and took his hand. "Here, you'll be needing this more than me."

Neal felt the cold metal gun press into his hand as the last of him was pulled away and into the hand of Death.

He opened his mouth, but no one could hear him scream.

**Hope you enjoyed and don't hate me too much! I just stumbled across this recently and had sudden inspiration for how to finish it. Anyway, thanks for reading! You can review if you'd like, but I'm not expecting much from this story anymore... my own fault really. Thanks everyone!**


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